


Voices in The Void

by Cwest5538



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Amnesia, Fist Fights, In First Person, Mental Health Issues, Mental Hospitals, Other Apex Legends Will Be Introduced Later, She's Kinda Stoic Otherwise, The Voice Has a Personality, The Voice Is So Done With Your Shit, This is in broad strokes because she doesn't have enough lore, Trauma, Wingman Is Best Gun, Wraith Is Snarky, Wraith doesn't have enough lore, first fic woo, hand-to-hand
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 18:57:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18155771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cwest5538/pseuds/Cwest5538
Summary: She wakes up on an operating table. She doesn't know why she's there. She doesn't know who she is. She doesn't know what the voice in her head is, either, or whether she can trust it.She does know that she's damn good at cracking skulls, and that she needs to get out of there. At any cost.





	Voices in The Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I wake up flat on my back on an operating table with the unshakable feeling that everything was going very _wrong in my life right now._ The fact that I didn’t know why I was there or how I’d gotten there didn’t reassure me."

I woke up flat on my back on an operating table with the unshakable feeling that everything had gone very wrong. The fact that I didn’t know why I was there or how I’d got there didn’t reassure me.

“Inject 16 CCs into her thigh,” a voice droned above me, “and monitor her vitals.” My head was swimming, but I understood that much. A blurry figure approached me from the side with a sharp-looking needle and I decided that I didn’t want that, sir, thank you very much.

 

I sit up and the figure flinches back in surprise. My eyes are blurry but I can tell that he’s wearing white, that he has a hypodermic needle, and that I can feel an unexplainable sense of hostility towards him.

“Sir, the subject is awake,” he said, and I watched as he slowly backed away. I blinked at the word subject. I wasn’t a subject. I hadn’t signed up for anything, and I most certainly hadn’t signed up for anything sharp to be jabbed into me.

He pressed a finger to something in his ear and nodded, and he looked at me as I blinked the dreariness from my eyes. “Laura, are you…. Alright?”

 

“My name isn’t Laura,” I said blankly. Did they have the wrong lady? My name was… my name was…

I couldn’t remember my name. I couldn’t remember my goddamn name. I didn’t know what I was doing here and I didn’t know who he was and I couldn’t remember  _ my name. _

“Do you know where you are?” He looked at me with something that I thought was concern until I realized that he was trying to discreetly press something in his pocket, and then I pretty rapidly reassessed my snap-judgment of his intentions.

_ “He’s calling for the orderlies. Take him down now.” _

“What?” I looked around but there was nobody else in the room but me and him and the voice had sounded female. “Is there somebody else in here with us?” A moment later I realized that I didn’t even know where  _ here  _ was.

“Everything is going to be okay,” and I wasn’t so out of it that I didn’t recognize the sickening sweet false reassurance in his tone. 

 

_ “You need to move. Take the scalpel on the table next to you and get ready to fight,”  _ the voice said. I glanced around in bewilderment, and I slowly and rationally started to realize that I might actually be insane. I didn’t have to work out whether I really was insane because three people in white coats that didn’t hide their bulging muscles burst into the room and came at me like they meant to take me apart.

I don’t think about it, I just react. My rational mind is asking why I’m fighting, how I’m doing this, where I learned to fight, but my body is moving too fast for me to think about what I’m doing. I leap off the table at them and I attack.

 

Some people are graceful warriors. Some are calm and collected. I am none of the above. 

The first one tries to grab me. I duck under his reaching arms and I uppercut him in the jaw. He cries out and stumbles and I punch him in the face as hard as I can. There’s a sickening crack as his nose breaks and I hate myself for the sudden surge of joy I feel as he makes a guttural noise and clutches at his bloody nostrils.

_ “On your right,”  _ the voice says, and I whirl around in time to duck under the arms of another orderly, who seems to think that if he can just grab me I’ll come quietly.

I lunge forward and drive my foot into his crotch. He screams in pain and doubles over. I grab his head and slam his head into my knee. He crumbles like a marionette with its strings cut and I turn to the other one. He’s barreling at me like a freight train. 

The voice is saying something but I already know what to do. I step to the side as he charges past me. Before he can recover I get him in a rear-naked choke, and I  _ squeeze _ . Somebody shouts that I’m choking him and I have the ludicrous urge to explain that I’m  _ strangling  _ him, actually.

He tries to fight back but the lack of blood going to his brain conks him out quick. I hold him for another five seconds and I throw him to the ground when he goes limp. 

And then I feel a sharp pain in my neck, and I realize with a gasp that the voice was trying to warn me about the original bastard.  I whirl around to stare at the thin man with the needle and then everything goes black as I fall to the ground.

 

After that, everything is in black and grey as I drift through my own head. I can hear snippets of conversation, but I can’t move, can’t think. People I don’t recognize talk about me and I want to get up and bash their brains in, and then waves of remorse wash over me for the terrible things I did to those people that were just doing their jobs.

“She took down three people in thirty seconds, Mike,” somebody says, and I feel a surge of satisfaction. I did, didn’t I?    
_ You still got caught because you wouldn’t listen to me,  _ the voice chides, and the reality of having a voice in my head starts to set in. More or less, it becomes very apparent that I am completely insane.

_ You aren’t insane,  _ the voice says.  _ You’re empowered by the void. You just need to get out of here. _

I ask it where the fuck here  _ is.  _

_ An IMC detention facility for the insane,  _ the voice says dismissively.  _ Easy enough to break out of.  _

What happened to me? I ask it.

_ I don’t know. But I am the void, and the void is within you. You’re a specter now. A ghost.  _

_ You’re a Wraith. _

“You made me hurt people,” I mutter, and if anyone was with me in my padded cell that probably would’ve alarmed them. “I won’t…. I won’t listen to you.”   
  


_ But do you have a choice? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter of my first fic! I honestly adore Wraith, and the fact that she has little to no lore angers me. So I gotta helfix that.


End file.
